by Shea Swain
Ian knew better than to move, so he stayed in his submissive position until the officers gave up on pulling Aria free and began offering her assistance. He felt an overwhelming need to never be apart from her in that moment, and knew that he would do any and everything in his power to keep her safe.
When Ian was sure none of the deputies were going to blow him away, he lowered his arms and embraced Aria. Pulling her close, he held her there until she calmed. He rubbed her damp hair as he whispered to her, “Let them look you over, Aria.”
Slowly, she reluctantly let her arms slide from around him and sat back so the EMTs could look at her foot.
“He needs help too.” She said to one of the people examining her, her eyes never leaving Ian’s.
One of the officers and an EMT came over and checked his eye. “How are Mr. and Mrs. Cole?” Ian asked low enough, so Aria couldn’t hear.
The EMT leaned back, and Ian broke eye contact with Aria so he could focus on the man in front of him. “Not good,” the EMT mouthed. “They’re en route to the Trauma Center.”
Jasper pulled his motorcycle off the highway and came to a stop under a bridge. He’d been searching for Ian and was beginning to feel that he wasn’t going to find him here in some forgotten town just outside Springfield, Massachusetts. It was Vincent’s idea for him to come to the location of Ian’s last communication. And though he’d turned over every stone looking for the kid, there was no sign of him or that he’d ever been here. Now he was heading back to Howl empty handed.
He hated search and retrieval work. He was more of a find then bury them kind of guy. Vincent was clear he didn’t want the kid hurt. Jasper, on the other hand, hadn’t cared either way. He didn’t like killing the innocent, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Ian was innocent, but their goal was bigger than the kid’s life, or the life of the girl. It was unfortunate that Ian had to suffer. He’d been the one to train the kid, but he hated unnecessary problems, and Ian Howl was now a problem.
More like a weakness.
If Vincent had let him strong-arm Victor, or kill Richard or Ian to sway Victor, they would have been done and would soon be getting what they both wanted. Of course, Vincent would never consider ending his nephew’s life, or his brother’s for that matter. Instead, he had thought of some stupid plan to kill a hooker and hold back the evidence that could convict Ian to sway Senator Victor Howl. When Jasper was away handling some business, Vincent had moved forward with a plan that was too convoluted. The shit had all but blown up in Vincent’s face, and now who was the one who had to fix it?
Me that’s who!
Jasper pulled out a piece of gum and put it in his mouth.
If he didn’t care for Vincent, if he didn’t owe the man his damn life, he would rip his bleeding fucking heart out. Jasper never really was a family kind of guy, and even though he loved Vincent like a brother, he could kill him without blinking if he had to. But Vincent had saved his life.
“Vincent saved my life” was Jasper’s new mantra of late.
Something he would chant to keep from gutting the fuck when Vincent was his usual arrogant self. Jasper sang it more and more these days. He treasured Vincent as his only friend and because Vincent had saved his life; that alone bought his loyalty. He would be hard pressed to turn his back on that but his patience was growing shorter.
So he would continue to be a devoted friend and take care of Vincent’s dirty work. Hell, he actually enjoyed it at times. He enjoyed killing that whore back in Baltimore. She’d deserved what she’d got. She’d deserved more. But he was tired of listening to her scream, so he’d done it quickly, against his primal wishes to draw it out longer. He hated screaming, begging, over-thinking situations, and this fucking searching.
IAN SAT UP IN THE chair and watched the cops that were coming into the waiting room. He held Aria’s hand on his lap, so he felt the way she tensed when she noticed them too. She’d gotten treated, but refused to stay in the room the hospital had given her. The knife hadn’t caused any permanent damage; she was actually quite lucky that it had missed her tendons and bones, and instead had landed in the flap of skin and tissue between her toes, but she had to be stitched and was given something for pain. The hospital staff told her to relax, but she was anxious for information regarding her parents, so he’d wheeled her up to the surgery waiting area.
He rubbed her hand as the cops approached them.
The one Aria called Harland spoke first, and the question was meant for him even though the officer looked at both of them. “Did you know those men?”
To Ian’s surprise Aria answered. He’d thought she had been lost in her own mind the entire time they were sitting here. “No, Harland, we’ve never seen those men before tonight. I’m so glad Ian was there or… I hate to think of what could have happened.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” the smaller of the three deputies said, looking nervously at them.
Harland gave her a sympathetic look then focused on Ian, his face hard. “They had no identification, had no cell phones, and their prints came back with no hits. They’re ghosts, and I want to know why ghosts were shooting up my boss’ home where his wife and daughter reside. So you tell me if you knew those fucks or not,” Harland ordered through clenched teeth.
It was clear the deputy was a friend of the family, and he was suspicious of Ian with good reason. Ian opened his mouth to tell them everything in hopes that they would protect Aria, but she squeezed his hand and gave him a pleading look. He would have preferred telling the truth, get it out in the open so Aria could be done with this, but he knew she didn’t want anyone else to know what had happened.
“No,” he said reluctantly as he looked at Harland, then flippant, “I didn’t know those fucks.”
Harland moved to grab Ian, but both of the deputies held him back. Ian heard one of the guys tell Harland to back off as he whispered in Harland’s ear what Ian had done to Carlos. Harland must have thought better of putting his hands on him, and backed off.
“Excuse me.” A small, light-haired woman interrupted. They all looked at the woman who stood a few feet away. Dr. Macomb was the name on the badge hanging loose on the breast pocket of her lab coat, along with a not-so-flattering picture. “We need to get Gavin into surgery, but he refuses until he speaks with someone named Ian,” she said, looking to Harland. Ian stood and the woman looked him over. Her brows were pinched together with concern, and she looked tired. Ian watched Dr. Macomb’s strained expression turn soft when she looked at Aria. “He wants to see you too, Aria, then he wants you, Harland.”
Ian wheeled Aria down the hall into some kind of pre-op room. Dr. Macomb waved to two of her staff, who were going about preparing Sheriff Cole for surgery, to follow her out. Ian wheeled Aria up to the side of the bed where she instantly took hold of her father’s hand. He had an IV in his wrist, leads on his chest and upper arms, and tubes in his nose. Bloody bandages covered his stomach and shoulder. Ian felt the sting of guilt pierce his chest, knowing that this man lay here because of him.
Sheriff Cole’s eyes bore into him. “I don’t know what happened tonight,” he hissed, “but you do.” It was a question. Ian nodded. “Were they after Aria and you?” Ian nodded again and the Sheriff sighed. Ian didn’t know what Sheriff Cole was thinking, but he prayed he didn’t forbid him to see Aria. “I saw how you protected my wife and me. Everyone can’t stop talking about what you did to the guy that attacked my baby.” He paused to catch his breath. “Those men, they were professionals, and you put them down…and have no scars to show from it.” Sheriff Cole tried to sit up, but grunted in frustration and pain when he realized his body wouldn’t allow it. “I need you to protect my baby girl until I can again.”
Aria was crying now. “It’s all my fault, Daddy. I should have listened to you about Gail.” She laid her head on his arm and sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh, baby girl,” Sheriff Cole told her. “I know there’s a story behind this, but right now your safety is my only
concern.” He looked back at Ian. “Her friend, Gail—her body was found yesterday.” Aria gasped, but didn’t say anything. “I figure this is all connected. I want you two out of here. I can keep what happened tonight, the details and your identities under wraps for a time. I need my baby safe, Ian, and I think you’ll fare better than my men. They’re good men, but they’re not…” Mr. Cole looked down and let whatever he wanted to say hang in the air. He looked back up at Ian. “Will you take her somewhere safe, protect her and the baby?”
Ian wanted to ask Sheriff Cole why he’d picked him over men who were trained to protect and serve—the very men that Sheriff Cole worked with and trusted with his own life. But Ian didn’t ask. Deep down, he knew why. He’d killed two men tonight and didn’t show any ill effects from it. When he thought about it, three things were apparent to him, and some may have been witnessed and described to the Sheriff as well.
First, he had killed swiftly, without a second thought, as if it were second nature to him. Two, it hadn’t affected him at all. He wasn’t sullen, saddened, or haunted about the lives he’d ended today, and he’d have no qualms about doing it again to protect Aria. And three, he moved faster, was stronger, and he had little trouble overpowering his opponents.
But what Sheriff Cole didn’t see or sense was what worried Ian. Even now he felt something changing inside him. When he was fighting today, something had unlocked, released inside him, spreading through him like a virus. Something powerful that Ian didn’t understand, but would fully embrace to keep Aria safe. Knowing there was no choice in the matter, that there was only one answer to Sheriff Cole’s question, Ian offered his hand. “I’ll protect her with my life, sir.”
No words could express the regret Ian felt about the events at Aria’s house. Whatever was going on in his uncle’s mind had nearly gotten Aria and her family killed. He couldn’t let that happen. Ian glanced over to Aria, sitting in passenger seat. His chest ached because there was nothing he could do for the pain and hopelessness she must be feeling. The only thing he could do now was keep her safe.
“I need to use the bathroom,” she whispered, breaking the long and uncomfortable silence that had existed between them since they left the hospital.
She hadn’t said anything to him since Harland drove them back to her house. She’d hugged Harland, thanked him for letting them borrow his wife’s car, and told him to watch over her mom and dad before she went into her boarded up house with one of the younger deputies to quickly pack. They’d put Land’s End in the rearview mirror after that, not knowing when they’d return.
“There’s a gas station and a few places to eat coming up at the next exit,” he told her. They’d been driving nonstop, hoping to put some space between them and their problems. Well, the life threatening ones anyway, he thought as he thought of the baby.
Ian took the exit and pulled into an all-night diner. He followed a limping Aria inside. While she went to the bathroom he sat down where he could see both entrances and out all the windows clearly then ordered burgers, fries, and something to drink for both of them. When the waitress walked away, he pulled his new pay-as-you-go phone out and dialed his father’s cell. When the line picked up, he was almost too shocked to speak.
“Hello?”
“Dad,” Ian said with hope. That hope soon deflated as static rippled through the line. “You’re breaking up.”
“Ian, is that you?” his father asked. Ian heard his father tell his older brother that he thought it was him, but the number was different and he couldn’t hear clearly. “Hold on while I move.”
Ian left out of the diner in order to get a better connection too. “Dad!” he yelled repeatedly. By the time he got outside, the call was lost. Ian tried calling his father back several times, but the call wouldn’t go through.
“Ian?”
He turned around to see Aria standing in the doorway of the diner. The concern in her eyes was palpable. He pocketed the phone and walked toward her. He took hold of the door and ushered her back inside, careful not to rush her. “I’d like you to eat something before we get back on the road,” he told her.
Aria stopped inside the diner by the door. “Who were you talking to?” she asked.
The look in her eyes said everything. She didn’t trust him. She probably would never trust him entirely, but he couldn’t blame her. “My father, but I lost the call.”
“Are you sure you should be calling anyone in your family?”
The question hit him hard. There was no way his dad was involved in this. Victor Howl was the most straight-laced person he knew. “My dad and Vincent are identical twins, but that’s where their similarity ends. They are total opposites, and we’re talking about my dad.” Aria lowered her head and nodded. She accepted his answer, but he could see she was still worried. He didn’t know how to make her see that she was safe, that she could trust him. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly, wrapping his arm around her shoulder.
“I know, it’s just that I…” She looked up at him.
Her thick, silky hair was down today. She tied her hair up most of the time, but he liked it flowing freely. She had the kind of hair that made him want to touch it, run his hands through it, and it smelled like fresh berries and cream. A scent he never really particularly cared for, but on her it made his body react in ways he wished it wouldn’t. “I won’t let anything happen to you, Aria,” he promised again. Then he took her back to their table and made her sit down and take the pressure off her foot.
Aria was wound up and he was sure that admitting he’d called his father had done more harm. Her shoulders were hunched and her hair covered most of her face as she began eating her food the waitress had placed on their table while he was outside. He picked up his burger and took a bite, deciding not to talk unless she initiated it.
Eating with someone without conversation was normal for him. His father and brother rarely shared meals with him, and when they did, the conversation was usually politically based, and Ian didn’t care for politics. So he was comfortable eating in silence, and watching her was somewhat of a treat, but the realization was giving him grief. Why couldn’t he purge the attraction he felt for her and just keep her safe?
After a while, he realized that she was no longer eating and her burger hadn’t been touched. “You don’t eat red meat?” he asked.
“I do,” she said, looking up, “but lately greasy burgers don’t really agree with me.”
He looked at her tray. “But fries are fine?”
She nodded. “Yup, most starches are.”
Ian gaze slid over his barely touched fries. To his surprise, she began eating them without protest. He smiled and was about to ask her if she wanted more, but his phone rang.
Frowning, he pulled the phone out and lifted his finger for her to excuse him. He left out of the door again and answered it.
“Is this Ian?” the too-sweet female voice asked.
It was Elaina Trent, his father’s aid. She was the one his father passed him to whenever he didn’t want to be bothered. “Yes, Elaina. I need to speak to my father.”
“Unfortunately, Ian, he is very busy. He has a meeting in a few minutes. Besides, the reception is really bad and the Prince prefers his guests to refrain from using any mobile devices when inside palace walls.”
“Look, Elaina, I am in some trouble and I—”
Elaina tsked, “Look, Ian, I can barely hear you. We’re in the Middle East, and as I said, the Royal guard here doesn’t like us communicating with home too much. Your father is extending his stay with the royals to tighten relations between our countries, so if you need help call your uncle.”
Ian had never cared for Elaina. She was a parasite who had latched on to his father years ago in the guise of an assistant. When she wasn’t flirting with his father, she was flirting with his brother. Thank God she hated him from day one, yet still he’d find her checking him out whenever she thought he wasn’t aware. She was a capable assis
tant and excelled in running interference, so he figured she was doing her job.
“Elaina, please, I need to speak with my father. It’s a matter of life or death,” he demanded.
“Uh huh,” she said, “Vincent would have mentioned there was a problem during their call this morning. In fact, he stated that you were being difficult. Look, Ian, just deal with your little crisis on your own for now like you always have. If your uncle can’t help, you can contact Paul Kessler at the FBI headquarters in Maryland if you need to. He and your family are pretty close, so he’ll be able to help you with your frat boy troubles. I’ll have your father call when he can. Goodbye, Ian.”
“You bitch,” Ian yelled into the phone he’d pulled away from his ear and now held in front of him.
Through the window of the restaurant he could see Aria staring at him. She gave him a weak, worried smile then returned to eating his fries. Ian turned away from her, taking several cleansing breaths. For someone who prided himself on his control, Ian was brimming with anger and it was on display for everyone around him to see. It was unsettling that Aria had witnessed him out of character twice today already. He would have chosen to keep those parts of himself from her, but he couldn’t deny how alive he felt. Ian rubbed his hand over his face and sighed. In truth, he felt more alive since Aria came into his life.
Shutting down his anger, Ian turned his back to the window and took several more deep breaths before he returned to Aria.
Sitting in the car at the truck stop, Aria watched as Ian suspiciously eyed every vehicle that pulled in the entrance while she nervously tapped her foot against the car mat. When she stopped, he turned to look at her, but she turned away, avoiding his gaze. Of course he would notice when she’d stopped tapping. It seemed like he’d been in synch with everything around him since the attack at her home, always watching, ever vigilant.
Out of the window, Aria saw a family walking toward the large two story rest stop. The man and woman held the hands of a child who looked to be about four years old. Seeing them made her think of her father and mother. How they loved and tried to protect her from the ills of the world. But she’d brought death to their doorstep.